


In the Name of the Mother

by SphenoidWing



Category: Original Work
Genre: CHAOTIC STUPID, Multi, Personal Growth, Rebellion, Underdog Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29321295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SphenoidWing/pseuds/SphenoidWing
Summary: In light of the tyrannical rule of Gregorius, the Butcher, a rebellion has come to life. Those who will be victimized no longer have found their voice, and they will not go down without a fight. This story follows Damon, a sorcerer and soldier who yearns to be the good in the world, as he grows into a new calling; the leader of a rebellion.
Comments: 1





	In the Name of the Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In light of the tyrannical rule of Gregorius, the Butcher, a rebellion has come to life. Those who will be victimized no longer have found their voice, and they will not go down without a fight. This story follows Damon, a sorcerer and soldier who yearns to be the good in the world, as he grows into a new calling; the leader of a rebellion.

"Someday, our grandchildren will look back on the battles we are fighting, they will know that we did this all for them and for their future!" The mustachioed general's voice boomed, magically enhanced so that all the listening men and women could hear his every syllable. "Your names will forever be written in the annals of history as those who would not tolerate tyranny! You will be lauded! And when the day comes that you go to meet Kalis, she will escort you personally to the side of Aphari herself!"

It was typical military talk, meant to be inspiring and such, but Damon hadn't needed a stirring speech to enlist. So many had suffered so much, and he was an able-bodied young man with hopes of leading the commonwealth to peace and prosperity. There was nowhere else he could possibly be when there was a war to be fought.

He stood aside, quietly pondering a heavy steel mug of something hot and bitter that one of the healers had brought him. It was to build his stamina, or so he had been told, since he had already been selected as a potential commander. He needed to be able to lead.

As the speech ended, the general stepped down off of his raised platform, and made his way to Damon. The men saluted each other politely. This was not the first time they had met, but it was the first time they were meeting as leaders of the rebellion.

"Commander Vistel."

"General Kipling." He inclined his head politely as the general started towards the war tent, the central command of their mission.

"It has been quite a while. The last time I saw you, you were saving the Butcher's daughter from a bandit raid." A chuckle cracked the general's harsh exterior. "I'm glad to see that you are on the right side of history."

Damon inwardly rolled his eyes. He did not need the propaganda. He was doing what was objectively right, with or without the General's approval. They pushed through the fabric door and found themselves alone in the red war tent. Magical torches burned harmlessly around them, illuminating a war table and a handful of stiff wooden chairs.

"The Butcher's put out a rather large ransom on your head after the capture of Fort Kaiza." General Kipling commented as he took a seat.

"Has he now?" Damon intoned, his arms folding across his chest. "How much is it up to now?"

"A thousand gold."

"I've half a mind to be offended. My head is worth at least twice that, it's a nice head." A joke, of course; he didn't think he'd made enough of an impact to warrant anything of the sort.

"Well, it does come up with some clever plans. I will be forever grateful that you and your men scooped Kaiza out from under his grasp." Kipling chuckled lightly as he leaned back in his seat. His demeanor suddenly turned grim. "I don't think we know what we're up against, not yet."

"Well, we know that Gregorius is a monster with a false god behind him, so there's that."

"But what if there's more to it? What if his 'stolen name' god exists?"

"Such an idea is an affront to Aphari herself." Damon shook his head. "She would never allow such an entity to exist, much less to allow it godhood."

"Perhaps."

"Surely, you did not invite me here to discuss philosophy." The question was dry, as was Damon's sense of humor, though he did not understand what had led to this particular conversation.

"No, unfortunately. When the war is won, we can retire like kings and discuss ideology and the gods. For now, though, there is much to be done."

Damon nodded silently, waiting for the ball to drop. What exactly did Kipling need of him?

"Vistel, have you seen the most recent batch of recruits?"

"The ones from Medak?"

Kipling shook his head. "The ship that was headed for Thaspius."

"No, I haven't seen them. They were being treated aboard the ship, if I recall, and the healer in charge wouldn't let anyone disturb them."

"There were children among them." Damon's jaw snapped shut audibly. Children, being shipped to a prison camp? He could feel his blood boiling just beneath the skin.

"Anyone who spoke against Gregorius, anyone who was related to anyone who spoke against Gregorius, and anyone who looked at Gregorius funny. Anyone he wanted was thrown aboard and shipped off, but no one knew he was sinking that low. They're bloodied and starving. If it weren't for some clever thinking on the part of one of their number, they would have been dropped off to die in the mines."

"Who helped them escape?"

Kipling looked down at a piece of parchment. "A young man, a little younger than you. His name is Corasand Beran, from Palhesh."

"He's a northerner?" Damon inquired suspiciously. Palhesh was a notorious stronghold for Gregorius' right hand man.

"Aye, he is. He's the son of a knight."

"That seems convenient."

Kipling shook his head. "You recall Ser Terzic?"

"Aye? The one with one eye?"

"That's the one. Corasand is his son."

As much as Damon distrusted northerners, Ser Terzic had always been an honorable man. "What did the lad do to deserve Thaspius?"

"Nothing, actually. He stowed away on the ship. Not like the king has a record of *all* the lost souls who've crossed him, so he was able to blend in. During the night, he rallied the healthiest men among them and they overthrew the guards."

At this, Damon's eyes got wide. The man's success had been a stroke of good luck or divine intervention, but it was nonetheless impressive. "Truly?"

"Aye. I've got some concerns, considering the king did not bother chasing the ship, but at the end of the day, they are here and ready to fight."

"What does this have to do with me, Ser?"

Kipling shifted, a scarred hand running up to stroke his dark mustache. "I want you to be in charge of them."

That had to be a joke. While Damon had always been told he 'had potential', no one had been foolish enough to give him troops to order around. It wasn't that he was unwilling, he was simply untrained, and afraid of leading more people to their doom. So many lives were at stake, and it made him anxious. 

"I've never led a command before, Ser, is that wise?" Never mind the fact that he could scarcely take care of a hundred adults, much less children.

"Perhaps it isn't, but I see it as a step towards your growth as a leader. Atypical charges for an atypical soldier."

"I feel as though I should be offended by that statement."

"No, you shouldn't be. I think it's your abnormalities that will lead us to victory."

"Still offended, Ser. Is there anything else?" Damon rose, stretching a little.

"Not at the moment. The able-bodied will be brought from the ship to meet you for supper. The children and the injured will stay behind to heal here. I'm trusting you to make the most of this."

"As you say, Ser." Damon saluted again and slipped out of the tent, brow furrowed. A ship full of people for him to lead. That made him exceedingly nervous. Supper was certainly going to be interesting, he could already tell.

~~~

It was a few more hours before supper, and Damon had been recruited to help the cooks.

Everyone in camp was expected to pitch in, save for the most superior of officers, and though he wouldn't admit it, Damon did enjoy spending time amongst the noncombatants. Even small interactions, like chatting over a pot of boiling potatoes, made him feel closer to the cause, and it reminded him for whom he fought.

"Chop up a few more carrots, there's a good lad." Nuala, the self-appointed elvish matriarch of the camp, patted Damon's shoulder affectionately. "Got to make sure they're getting good and full, who knows when they last had a good meal."

While the thought had crossed his mind more than once, it still made Damon uneasy. Most of the vessel had been innocents who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. True criminals were rarely sent to Thaspius; it was a land for political enemies. Anyone who truly violated the laws of the land were simply executed. Thaspius was a tool to prove the king's might. It was revolting.

"I hear you're takin' on some more responsibility, laddie, is that the case?" She prompted, beaming with something akin to grandmotherly pride.

Damon felt a faint flush burn up his neck. "General Kipling asked me to help get them into fighting shape, aye." He confirmed.

His gaze had not left the carrots. Mother knew, the last thing he needed was to lose a finger to their supper.

"That's good! You've been working especially hard, you deserve it. One of these days, you won't even need to come help me."

"That day will never come, Nuala. I like helping you too much. And besides, you're wonderful for my ego." Damon set down the knife and looked up to her. "But at least I can help them, too. Maybe that'll make a difference."

While Damon was by no means an optimist, he knew in his heart he was going to make a difference to the people who needed him most.

"You're going to help them, Damon. You've got a good soul. Mother blesses those with good souls." She assured him softly, patting his shoulder. "They'll build statues of you someday."

His face darkened as he added the carrots he'd been chopping to a massive cauldron of stew. "Nuala, if anyone is going to have a statue made, it's going to be you, for keeping us all fed."

In response, Nuala shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please. It hasn't rained in six months and we've got food enough to feed all of Medak." He cocked a brow. "And besides, I've seen that glass eye of yours glowing whenever you're in the garden. Are you telling me you're not some secret nature spirit or something?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "I'm only a wood elf, my boy. One with a close relationship to Inserra, perhaps, but an elf all the same."

It had been a long running game as he tried to discern what her true talent was. It seemed odd that a cook would be so highly revered in the rebellion.

"Regardless. I'm not in this to get a statue built, I'm trying to help."

"Aye, and that's why you _will_ have a statue built, dearest."

He shook his head and gave their supper a hearty stir. "I think it's ready to go."

"Good, they're here." Nuala's wizened gaze fell to a group of strangers lumbering towards them. "D'you want to go make your introductions? I can get their bowls filled while you give them the speeches Kipling's taught you."

At that, Damon grimaced. "Hardly. I'd rather just have a meal with them and get to know them. They don't need the pressure of getting to work right this moment. We have plenty of time to teach them to be soldiers."

The elf just smiled lightly and helped him dish out nearly thirty bowls of their stew. It was hearty, and hot, and that was really all they could guarantee, for the time being. Distributing them took a few moments, and soon, all the newcomers were quietly devouring the first hot meal they'd had in weeks.

"You're safe here." Nuala murmured to a small cluster of recruits. "We'll do everythin' in our power to protect you. Y' don't have to fret. You're with family now."

She was good at spreading cheer. Damon had always admired that about her. He followed her lead and started quietly comforting those who seemed the worst off. It did not make them immediately open up, but he had scarcely expected it to.

When he came upon the last little group, huddled around a fire, Damon was surprised by a blond stranger gesturing to a spot next to him. Their bowls were already empty and stacked neatly across the fire.

"You don't have to keep working, you know. We're strong enough to stand, we're strong enough to get bowls." It was not a challenge. In fact, the blond seemed concerned about Damon's wellbeing as well as his own.

This was decidedly shocking, but Damon shook it off, instead smiling at him. "I take it you're Ser Terzic's son?"

"Corasand Beran, at your service." The younger man saluted politely, which caused an uncomfortable heat to rise in Damon's cheeks. "And you are?"

"My name is Damon." He didn't think he needed to give any further details.

"Well, Damon, meet Aoife, Anatoly, and Daithi." Cora gestured to each in turn; a human woman, a dwarf, and a Kelaarti.

"A pleasure to meet all of you." Damon meant it. It was good to know that more people supported their efforts.

"And yourself." Aoife answered for the group, her expression warm but a little cautious.

"So you'll be directing our training, I hear?" Cora prompted, leaning back against the tree stump he was using as a seat.

"Where did you hear that?" Damon sputtered.

"There's a lot of talk around camp, sir. It's not hard to pick up details."

"Cora knows all sorts of people." Aoife sounded smug. "And he's _very_ good at finding out information."

That could be useful, and it could also be incredibly frustrating. Damon gave an awkward chuckle.

"Ignore her. She's the one that taught me to listen." Cora tapped his own temple.

"Respect your elder sister." Aoife grumbled back.

Damon snorted. Being an only child had never felt so good.

"I do respect you. I also know that you're cocky, and that I did learn a good deal from Anatoly, too."

Anatoly, a rather broad dwarf, inclined his head at the mention of his name, but said nothing, though his gaze was focused on Damon's features.

"Humph. Anatoly only taught you to shut up and listen. I taught you how to weasel information out of someone."

Cora snickered. "Aye, you are a good weasel." He teased, a good-natured smile on his face. "So, Good Ser Damon, what are you going to teach us on the morrow?"

The flush returned to his face. "I'm not a ser." Damon muttered, hurriedly shoveling a bit of the stew into his mouth.

"But you could be. Yet you gave it up to help us." Was that admiration he heard in Cora's voice? "My father talked about you. Said you could have married the Butcher's little lamb, but you didn't. Why's that?"

Damon, who had choked on his supper, coughed a few times and shook his head. "Could you imagine being his son-in-law?" He replied dryly as soon as he'd caught his breath. "And besides. She wanted her knight in shining armor. I wasn't that." Among other things, of course, but he did not wish to bring that up around strangers.

" _It is an inferior knight whose armor shines like a star._ " Daithi suddenly spoke up, his voice soft.

"I haven't read the _Epic of Seris and Argo_ in years." Damon looked a little sad at the thought. "It was one of my favorites growing up."

"Daithi can recite it by heart. Just ask him." Cora snickered, but Daithi shrugged.

"Many of my people's holidays center around coming together as a family and telling stories, true or invented. Our breath is a gift from Ryka himself, and should be used to inspire, bring joy, or to pass on creation, just as he did." Daithi did not look embarrassed, instead rather annoyed at Cora's teasing.

"I know, I know. But just think, at the next festival you attend, you're going to have one hell of a story to tell. Fighting against the Butcher, protecting the innocent-- you're going to be the star of the night." Cora's expression had turned to one of admiration. "We're all going to make history here, I just know it."

His tone made Damon feel-- well, something. He couldn't quite describe it. He'd only just met the group, but he knew they were kindred spirits already.

"You can make history, Cora." Daithi grunted, crossing his winged arms over his chest. "I just want to make it out of this war alive."

"Mm, no. When we win, and when you're some lord somewhere, they're going to _have_ to build your statue." Cora smirked back at him. "And I'm going to decorate it with flowers every time you get annoyed with me."

"Then I shall have a veritable arboretum in my honor." Daithi replied dryly, though even Damon caught the glimmer of laughter behind his stern exterior.

At that, Cora burst out laughing. "Never change, Daithi."

"I will do my best, Corasand."

"If you're all finished, we could use help washing the dishes." Damon interjected, feeling rather awkward as he realized his meal was far more food than he needed.

"Are you going to eat that?" Aoife interjected.

When Damon shook his head, she swiped the bowl and handed it to Anatoly, who nearly inhaled it.

"Thank you, Ser Damon." Cora's sister smiled to him before she rested her head against Anatoly's shoulder, his large arm wrapping around her dainty waist as she did so. "He never seems to eat enough. I worry about him."

"Please don't call me Ser."

"You're closer to Ser than I am." Aoife replied with a laugh.

"Aoife, Anatoly will always be hungry. How else do you think he always has the strength to do ridiculous and impossible things?" Cora rolled his eyes and stood up, taking the dish from Anatoly. "I'll go and wash these, you folk find somewhere comfortable to sleep. Tents are for the superiors, we'll be sleepin' under the stars tonight."

That wasn't entirely accurate, Damon wanted to say. Unfortunately, the rebellion was poorly supplied, at least for the moment, and tents were an unnecessary item.

"If you trust me," he interjected, causing the blush to cross his tanned face once more, "I can show you a way to sleep more comfortably without a tent."

Aoife wrinkled her nose. "I think Anatoly and I will be fine."

"My cousin is General Kipling's squire, we will be sharing a tent." Daithi murmured. "But thank you for the offer."

"Well-- I'll join you." Cora tried to sound eager, something that Damon appreciated. "I trust you."

Such a statement was heavy, especially in such trying times. They were strangers, and yet Cora seemed to think of Damon as a good person. How utterly bizarre.

He jumped up silently and followed Cora to the nearby brook.

"You know, this really is a one man job." Cora laughed awkwardly as he knelt beside the running water. "You didn't have to join me."

"No, I know--"

"Well-- thanks for the company." This was more genuine, a smile to match tugging his features.

"Why did you jump aboard the slavers' ship?" The words tumbled out of Damon before he knew what he was saying.

Cora tilted his head to one side. "My sister, her husband, and their best friend were all abducted because Anatoly spoke out against the king. I couldn't just sit around and know they were being tortured or worked to death."

"What about your father? Why didn't he speak up?"

A dark look crossed Cora's face. "My father is a coward." His words were sharp with finality.

Damon wanted to ask so many questions, but he knew better. "Then you saved them."

"Not just them. I saved that whole ship. Did you know there were twelve children under ten years old aboard? I know each of them by name now. There were fifteen men and women over the age of sixty-five, too. And that's not including all of the 'able-bodied' people aboard. All of whom would have died of exposure or exhaustion within the month, if Gregorius had his way. I couldn't knowingly let that happen."

 _Noble_ , Damon thought, _but foolish. What if it hadn't worked?_

"I'm hoping to go to Thaspius. I want to break his hold on the island and free the people there. If they were healthy enough to overthrow the guards-- well. We'd have an ally. But that is for a later time. For now, show me how you plan to sleep, and we will rest easily for tonight."

Damon nodded, collecting the now-clean dishes to return to Nuala. As soon as they were returned, he led Cora to the edge of the tree line.

"Have you ever slept in a hammock?" 


End file.
